Burning Low
by Stencil Your Heart
Summary: He likes cold beer and curvy blondes, singing Whitesnake in the shower (he won't admit it, but Sam's heard), and the smell of gasoline when he fills up the Impala. And, he's starting to think, he kind of likes her, too. But he is stubborn, and so is she, and loving a Winchester has never been easy. Starts S1E20.


**Disclaimer:** As always, I don't own anything you recognize.

* * *

_Well you only need the light when it's burning low  
__Only miss the sun when it starts to snow  
Only know you love her when you let her go  
- Passenger, "Let Her Go"_

* * *

The darkness was heavy.

That was the first thing she noticed as she stepped into her Uncle Dan's cabin, over the salt that lined the entrance, through the splintered doorway that had seen better days. The darkness pressed against her from all sides - thick, imposing, ominous. She couldn't shake the feeling that if she reached out, she could touch it, squeeze it, strangle it. Before it strangled her.

From just the living room, there was no sign that anything horrible had occurred there. It was a scene from every horror movie ever made, she thought dryly as she wove her way through the living room; it was a classic "Don't go in the house!" moment. The house, of course, was always where the monsters were. The thought elicited a humorless scoff as she strode purposefully into the back room, stepping carefully around the overturned bookcase, broken glass from the skylight above crunching beneath her feet. Logically, she should have been frightened, knowing what had been there hardly more than twenty-four hours before her.

Rounding the corner, she swallowed hard to hush the churning in her stomach. She was not frightened. She knew what she was going to find when she finally got there. Besides, it had been a long time since she was afraid of the dark.

The room was in a complete state of disarray, from the broken and overturned furniture to the papers strewn across the floor. She had been in New Mexico following a lead when she received the call the day before. The cops had initially thought it to be a bear attack, but were now considering a possible robbery, Beth had told her. She'd nearly laughed at the notion. There weren't many things that could get the best of Daniel Elkins, and a wild animal or a burglar certainly weren't on the list.

She forced a swallow again, willing herself to keep her composure. They must have slipped past him somehow, she figured. Her uncle always kept tabs on packs or stragglers passing nearby, regardless of how few and far between they had become. Usually they were able to waste them without much trouble, but for whatever reason, this time was different. She was half tempted to call it fate, but neither her father nor her uncle had believed in that sort of thing. Were they with her then, they both would have told her it was Uncle Dan's own fault for being careless. Hunters could never let their guard down - that was one of the first things they had taught her.

But no matter how prepared she thought she was, the sight of her uncle's dried blood on the floor before her was a harsh blow to her gut. The wrestling match in her stomach refused to stop no matter how much she willed it to, and finally she flung herself over the windowsill, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the grass beneath it with a choked sob. When she was reduced to dry heaving and a raw throat, she allowed herself to slide to the floor, head in her hands. And she cried.

Uncle Dan would have berated her for such a show of emotion when there was work that needed to be done. Losing people was part of the job; there was no avoiding it. But no matter how many times she reminded herself that she chose this life, knowing the sacrifices it entailed, there was nothing that made losing someone you love hurt any less. So she let herself cry, eyes in her fists, her rage and sorrow and emptiness crawling further up her throat with every violent retch of her shoulders.

Her father was years gone, her mother and sister even longer, and her uncle had recently joined them. She truly was alone now, the only Elkins left. It was a miserable, selfish thought, she knew. But it was fact. Uncle Dan had never married (she suppressed a laugh at the mental picture), all of her immediate family had long passed, and now the only person she needed to look out for was herself. She'd been doing such a bang up job of it so far, after all.

Whether it was minutes or hours that she wallowed in her misery, she could never be sure; truthfully, it felt like years. She couldn't stay like this forever, she knew. For now she was alone, that much was certain. But not for long.

She'd hardly composed herself and made her way back into the living room when she heard the slam of the car door outside. She had been seventeen going on eighteen the last time she saw him, a brand new high school graduate ready for her first year of college in the fall. He and her uncle had argued for the last time during that visit, and she hadn't seen him since. Regardless, he had been her first call, at 11:06 on the bus back to Manning. She'd left him a voicemail, but she knew he would come. He had to.

"Allison," his voice came from the doorway, his boots kicking up a cloud of dust as he crossed the threshold to place a heavy hand on her shoulder. "It's been a long time."

She raised her gaze to his. He looked more or less the same as she remembered from all those years ago, though his face sported a few extra lines and there was salt and pepper in his close-cropped beard. His dark hair had begun to grey faintly around the temples, and the expression on his face was a mixture of things she couldn't quite place. But when she looked at him, suddenly she was thirteen again, learning how to make her very first sawed-off shotgun instead of going to her first homecoming dance, grinning ear to ear with pride when he and her father shared a look and told her she had "done good." He was familiar, and she trusted him in spite of his absence and any falling out he and her uncle had.

She managed a weak smile as her stomach turned over again.

"It's good to see you, John."

The smile he flashed her in return was weary, and he wasted no time ushering her gently toward the door.

"Come on, we need to go."

"Now?"

She spun to face him, and he nodded.

"We need to be out of sight before they get here."

"Who?"

"My sons."

She faltered for a second before following him out into the front yard. Early November snow coated the gravel that shifted and crunched beneath their boots as they veered off into the woods on the side of her uncle's cabin. John's Sierra Grande was hidden beneath the cover of the trees, deep enough that the two brothers were unlikely to notice them, but close enough that they were still able to see them.

"How do you know they're coming?" She asked, curling her fingers around the grip handle and swinging herself into the passenger side of the old GMC.

John gave her a small smile from the driver's side.

"I know my boys."

She nodded, turning her gaze back to the cabin. Beside her, John shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Allison… about your uncle and me-"

"You didn't see eye to eye," she interrupted. "I know. He told me you thought he had the Colt, that you wanted to use it to kill the demon."

John chuckled wryly.

"It's true. And he told me that if he did have it, there was no way in hell he was wasting it on 'one dumbass demon.'"

"Yeah, for some reason he left that detail out," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Uncle Dan was never much for, you know, sentimentality."

She swallowed roughly, willing herself to ask the question she desperately wanted an answer to.

"Do… Do you have any leads on it? The demon, I mean?"

John turned to face her, his eyes fixed firmly on her own.

"Yes," he said finally. "I think I do."

The breath left her like a violent blow to the stomach. She always knew that finding (and killing) the demon was John's first priority, but she honestly never thought it would actually happen. The demon had eluded him for years, but now… Could all of this really be so close to being over? Could they finally get the closure they needed, avenge the people they loved the most?

"Allison," his voice snapped her back to attention, suddenly serious and urgent. "I need to ask you, did Daniel have the Colt?"

She frowned, shaking her head.

"Honestly, I don't know. For a while I thought he did, but… I guess I thought if he really did have it, then there'd be no way that he wouldn't track down the demon and kill it. For Dad."

She sighed.

"But like I said, Uncle Dan was never the hugs and feelings type. Maybe he was hiding it all this time, saving it for something he thought was important. I don't know."

John moved to say something else, but stopped when the crunch of gravel warned of an oncoming vehicle. A familiar '67 Chevy rolled up to the front of the cabin moments later, and out stepped Sam and Dean Winchester. She watched as the two surveyed the outside of the cabin before picking the lock and disappearing inside.

Growing up with hunters for fathers, it wasn't uncommon that Allison and the Winchesters would sometimes end up staying at Pastor Jim's or Bobby Singer's at the same time. Although she had always liked them when she was younger, they hadn't made any efforts to keep in touch over the years, and she honestly wasn't entirely sure what to expect from them.

"So," she broke the silence after several minutes, "Are we going to talk to them, or just run this stake out from the truck all night?"

"We'll talk to them," John assured her with a slight nod, "As soon as we make sure they weren't followed."

"Are you thinking the demon…?"

The light laugh the escaped him held no traces of humor.

"When am I not thinking the demon?"

Hardly a heartbeat later, the Winchester boys emerged again, holding what she thought was her uncle's journal and a piece of paper. They were talking to each other, she could see, although they were too far away for her to make out their words as they climbed back into the old Impala and drove away.

"You know," she said with a small smile as John turned the key in the ignition, "I've always wanted to tail someone. Other than for a hunt, I mean."

"Guess it's your lucky day then."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she found herself sitting alone in the passenger side of John's truck, across the street from the Impala where John was talking to Sam and Dean. She'd been told to stay in the truck, and every once in a while, she was actually capable of doing what she was told. She could faintly see their silhouettes in the glow of the street light outside of the post office, not enough to be able to fully make out their faces, but she could guess what John was telling them.

In this line of work, there weren't really many things that could surprise a hunter anymore. Werewolves, demons, angry spirits - they were all things that hunters dealt with on a regular basis, and after a while, you sort of became a little desensitized to them. Or at least, they didn't shock or terrify you any more. You knew how to fight them, and so you did. With vampires, however, there was always something about them that made a hunter's skin crawl. It was hard to believe that they weren't just the stuff of nightmares and poorly written young adult novels. They were a nasty breed, and definitely an undesirable speciality, but she had been watching and helping her Uncle Dan for so long that it came almost too naturally for her.

Across the street, she saw the three men step out of the Impala. Looking past his sons, John nodded at her, and she hopped out of the truck and began making her way across the street.

"If Elkins was telling the truth, we've gotta find this gun," John was telling them.

"The gun?" Sam was asking. "Why?"

"Because it's important, that's why."

"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet!"

"Actually, we do," she offered, coming up behind the two younger Winchesters who spun around to face her.

"They're what Daniel Elkins killed best," John continued. "Vampires."

"Vampires?" The other brother repeated, incredulous. "I thought there was no such thing. And who the hell is this, Dad? Kinda young for you, don't you think?"

He seemed to catch himself and blinked, looking her over appraisingly. His green eyes sparkled with mirth as he smirked at his father.

"Dude, Dad. Nice."

The other rolled his eyes and held his hand out to Allison, shaking hers politely. "I'm Sam. Sorry about my brother."

"You've met," John stated before she could speak. "This is Daniel Elkins' niece, Allison. Robert Elkins' daughter." He turned to face her. "You remember Sam," he gestured to the polite one, who smiled, "And Dean," the older one, who nodded.

"Been a while," she remarked, shoving her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. "But, yeah. Vampires."

"I thought they were extinct," John explained. "I thought Elkins, and others like him, had wiped them out. I was wrong."

"Every once in a while we'd get a pack that would come through," Allison elaborated. "Sometimes straight through here, sometimes somewhere nearby. Usually Uncle Dan and I would be able to take them out, no problem. Guess these guys slipped under the radar."

"So, how do we stop them?" Sam asked. "Is it just stake to the heart, or…?"

"Or should we be putting garlic in these shells instead of rock salt?" Dean added.

She laughed lightly.

"Unfortunately, neither. Most of the stuff you probably think you know about vampires is pretty much crap. Stakes don't kill them. Crosses don't keep them away, and neither does garlic. Sunlight hurts, but basically just like the worst sunburn you've ever had; it won't kill them. It's gotta be decapitation."

"The bloodlust, though," John continued. "That part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. But they were people once, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."

Dean groaned, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration.

"Well, that's great. So what do we do now? Rob a blood bank and lay a trail? We've got no clue how to find these guys."

"We'll go back to your motel room," John said, simply. "Regroup from there. Allison and I will follow you."

The two boys nodded, moving to climb back into their Impala. As Allison turned to follow John back to the truck, she could still hear Dean grumbling under his breath.

"Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a long night, Sammy?"

* * *

First chapter is up! I've debated about posting this for a while, but it was a plot bunny I just couldn't get rid of, so I decided to go for it. I'm planning on following the show (especially seasons 1-3) relatively closely, but I want to make it clear that this is definitely not just going to be a retelling of the series with an OC thrown in! We really only get to see a small portion of the guys' lives in the show, so I want to explore the space in between the episodes, as well as what we do get to see. I've also got something pretty big planned for our OC later on, so hopefully you enjoyed it and will stick around!

As always, thanks so much for reading, and reviews are loved and greatly appreciated!


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